people like you in
here.”
Closing her eyes and praying for patience,
Mickey said, “The Abbess and I had many honest conversations prior
to my entering St. Bridget’s.”
“And you’re willing to give up everything?
For this?” Natalie gestured around the parlour with its clean but
plain furnishings. “Your house? Your money?”
Mickey smiled pityingly. “Those things mean
nothing by themselves. I would have thought you would have come to
understand that these past ten years.”
Natalie’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Don’t you
dare compare yourself and your, your… to what your father and I
had. He wanted me to be well taken care of –”
“So, Jamie,” Mickey interrupted, turning to
her brother, “how is your work going?”
Natalie furiously clamped her mouth
shut.
“It’s going really well,” Jamie said,
jumping into the ensuing silence. “I’ve got three commissions, one
of them for a gallery in New York.”
“Good for you,” Mickey said proudly.
“How are things going here?” he asked.
“Surprisingly well,” she admitted. “I’m
settling in better than I thought I would. I’ll be asking to enter
the Novitiate in April.”
“How long does that last?”
“Two years. After that, if I’m accepted,
I’ll take my simple vows which can last up to five years before
taking final vows.”
“Wow.” Jamie’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I didn’t realize it was such a long process.”
“They want us to be really sure before we
make a lifetime commitment.”
A bell rang, and Mickey looked up.
“We should go,” Jamie said, standing. “We’ll
be back for Mass tomorrow.”
Mickey gave him another quick hug. “Thanks
for coming… I think,” she whispered in his ear.
He chuckled and let her go.
“See you tomorrow, Mom.”
Natalie Stewart didn’t reply as she walked
stiffly out of the parlour.
Chapter 8
After Christmas, the abbey returned to a more
normal schedule. Mickey had held her breath, feeling she would
breathe a little easier once her mother was back in Florida, but,
to her surprise, Natalie had behaved herself on Christmas day and
had been civil if not friendly. Jamie, of course, had been very
charming, and he and Mother Theodora had hit it off as if they were
old friends. Tanya’s parents came to visit all the way from
Minnesota. Mickey smiled remembering how nervous and wide-eyed
Jessica’s younger sister had been – she looked exactly like
Jessica. Wendy, she’d noticed with a touch of curiosity, was the
only one of the postulants who hadn’t had any family there for
Christmas.
The postulants were re-assigned to help in
different areas of the abbey. Mickey and Abigail were assigned to
the kitchen. It was hard work, and required missing some of the
hours of the Office in order to have each meal ready on time. Never
much of a chef, Mickey was quickly relegated to clean-up or
chopping of ingredients, but “no cooking for you,” Sister Cecilia
commanded after tasting Mickey’s first unsavory attempt at mixing a
simple stock for soup.
Sister Cecilia was in charge of the kitchen.
She was a large, no-nonsense woman, and Mickey privately thought
she would have done well in the Army. Sister Cecilia made up all
the menus, ordered all the food and personally did most of the
cooking. It was a huge responsibility.
Far from complaining, Mickey actually
enjoyed the mindless nature of washing pots and pans; it gave her
time to think, “wool-gathering,” Alice would have said with a
knowing shake of her head. The only cloud over her Christmas
recollections was Sister Helen’s coldness. After Mickey’s rebuke,
their remaining rehearsals had been peremptory, and once the
juniors’ concert was concluded, Sister Helen had had nothing more
to do with Mickey. Even now, on those occasions when Mickey
happened to be at the kitchen pass-through, collecting dirty
dishes, Sister Helen would not meet her eyes, would not speak. As
much as Mickey wished she could
here.”
Closing her eyes and praying for patience,
Mickey said, “The Abbess and I had many honest conversations prior
to my entering St. Bridget’s.”
“And you’re willing to give up everything?
For this?” Natalie gestured around the parlour with its clean but
plain furnishings. “Your house? Your money?”
Mickey smiled pityingly. “Those things mean
nothing by themselves. I would have thought you would have come to
understand that these past ten years.”
Natalie’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Don’t you
dare compare yourself and your, your… to what your father and I
had. He wanted me to be well taken care of –”
“So, Jamie,” Mickey interrupted, turning to
her brother, “how is your work going?”
Natalie furiously clamped her mouth
shut.
“It’s going really well,” Jamie said,
jumping into the ensuing silence. “I’ve got three commissions, one
of them for a gallery in New York.”
“Good for you,” Mickey said proudly.
“How are things going here?” he asked.
“Surprisingly well,” she admitted. “I’m
settling in better than I thought I would. I’ll be asking to enter
the Novitiate in April.”
“How long does that last?”
“Two years. After that, if I’m accepted,
I’ll take my simple vows which can last up to five years before
taking final vows.”
“Wow.” Jamie’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I didn’t realize it was such a long process.”
“They want us to be really sure before we
make a lifetime commitment.”
A bell rang, and Mickey looked up.
“We should go,” Jamie said, standing. “We’ll
be back for Mass tomorrow.”
Mickey gave him another quick hug. “Thanks
for coming… I think,” she whispered in his ear.
He chuckled and let her go.
“See you tomorrow, Mom.”
Natalie Stewart didn’t reply as she walked
stiffly out of the parlour.
Chapter 8
After Christmas, the abbey returned to a more
normal schedule. Mickey had held her breath, feeling she would
breathe a little easier once her mother was back in Florida, but,
to her surprise, Natalie had behaved herself on Christmas day and
had been civil if not friendly. Jamie, of course, had been very
charming, and he and Mother Theodora had hit it off as if they were
old friends. Tanya’s parents came to visit all the way from
Minnesota. Mickey smiled remembering how nervous and wide-eyed
Jessica’s younger sister had been – she looked exactly like
Jessica. Wendy, she’d noticed with a touch of curiosity, was the
only one of the postulants who hadn’t had any family there for
Christmas.
The postulants were re-assigned to help in
different areas of the abbey. Mickey and Abigail were assigned to
the kitchen. It was hard work, and required missing some of the
hours of the Office in order to have each meal ready on time. Never
much of a chef, Mickey was quickly relegated to clean-up or
chopping of ingredients, but “no cooking for you,” Sister Cecilia
commanded after tasting Mickey’s first unsavory attempt at mixing a
simple stock for soup.
Sister Cecilia was in charge of the kitchen.
She was a large, no-nonsense woman, and Mickey privately thought
she would have done well in the Army. Sister Cecilia made up all
the menus, ordered all the food and personally did most of the
cooking. It was a huge responsibility.
Far from complaining, Mickey actually
enjoyed the mindless nature of washing pots and pans; it gave her
time to think, “wool-gathering,” Alice would have said with a
knowing shake of her head. The only cloud over her Christmas
recollections was Sister Helen’s coldness. After Mickey’s rebuke,
their remaining rehearsals had been peremptory, and once the
juniors’ concert was concluded, Sister Helen had had nothing more
to do with Mickey. Even now, on those occasions when Mickey
happened to be at the kitchen pass-through, collecting dirty
dishes, Sister Helen would not meet her eyes, would not speak. As
much as Mickey wished she could
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